


The Idiot's Guide to Playing Cupid

by PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess



Series: Endless Possibilities [2]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M, Multi, OT3 eventually, dad!spy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 03:39:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11050554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess/pseuds/PhoenixFire_theWizardGoddess
Summary: Concept: Scout tries to get Heavy & Medic to Realise™ they like each other, and it backfires spectacularly… well.





	The Idiot's Guide to Playing Cupid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Freshsalad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freshsalad/gifts).



> Another idea based off a silly conversation with camiluna27/Freshsalad yesterday, while I was trying to thank them for the awesome b'day Scout & Dad!Spy art they made me...
> 
> We also decided Scout/Medic/Heavy was called "Triathlon", thus the tag. 
> 
> BEHOLD THE TRASH I WRITE AT 3AM

_Perhaps the Demoman was right_ , Heavy finds himself thinking afterwards.

 

Dinner tonight had been a matter of 'whatever you could find to eat', over the usual team dinner and roster system, due to the sudden summons Engineer had received from the Administrator after battle. Only Spy seemed to have a vague idea of what was happening, and the man tended not to share things of that nature with the others; especially if it meant the rest of the team were left in the dark. Medic had blatantly accused the man of having a superiority complex more than once.

 

Heavy _still_ could not work out how the secretive Frenchman had managed to catch the attention, much less affections, of the team's resident demolitions expert, considering how opposite they seemed; and yet, both parties appeared much... _better_ , he supposed, for the union. It was that fact alone that led the Russian to question the validity of Tavish's statement later on, as he traversed the corridors towards the Infirmary.

  
The Scotsman had already been in the kitchen when Heavy had arrived half an hour previous; already foraging for some degree of sustenance that the others had missed in their searches, evident in the utter disarray of the room. Shopping was done on Saturdays, and the list written according to what each mercenary rostered on to cook that week would need; treats and easy-to-eat items tended to be depleted almost immediately, however, which was why everyone was in such a predicament, at current.

Sure, sometimes a mercenary would be too tired or unwell to take their turn and someone else switched days; the ingredients were there after all, usually, so it was no big deal. Though the universal constant was that Engie liked taking Fridays, because he was the best at fixing meals from seemingly nothing... and no one ever really anticipated a situation like tonight. There was no one to switch in, ingredients were in low supply and Engie wasn't here to show them how to make a hearty meal for nine out of three eggs and wishful thinking. 

Demo had greeted him warmly, as usual and made a crack about how it looked like they'd best either call for pizza or resign themselves to a liquid dinner. To which Heavy had laughed, and questioned how Spy would react to such an idea; which set the other off into something bordering hysterical laughter, before he wheezed out a bad imitation of Spy's french outrage at the very _concept_ of choosing either option. Which set the Russian off as well; though he was slightly more cautious, glancing around just in case there was a faint shimmer of a cloaked Spy could be detected. 

The espionage agent might very well forgive Demo for all but the most offensive of statements, but Heavy was fair game, either way. They were a strange match, Spy and Demo, but a good fit; no matter how confused and vaguely scandalised it had made the little Scout when he had found out.  
Which had been rather hilarious, in hindsight; though what Heavy recalled most about 'the big reveal' event, was how Medic had taken the runner aside to talk the shell-shocked Bostonian through the situation. Apparently, he'd learned later on, it wasn't so much that Demo was well, a _man_... more, that Spy was such a ridiculously passionate romantic that every moment of public affection became an ardent spectacle; he'd seen it firsthand when the guy tried to rekindle things with his Ma, and was violently against putting up with it on base as well. Cause it tended to leave him feeling all kinds of awkward about it.  Also, there was the additional little snafu of Demo's sudden penchance for calling Scout  'son' instead of 'laddie', in an affectionate form of teasing... which had left the younger man in a minor existential crisis - _as both he and Spy were still dancing around the whole paternity thing as if the entire base didn't already know_.

Scout, as one can imagine, reportedly wasn't amused when Medic burst out laughing at the statement, before saying that sometimes being an adult meant dealing with other peoples' nonsense, which seemed to mollify the situation somewhat. He'd calmed down about the whole thing anyway, or at least everyone had assumed so until the batter pulled out all the stops on Father's Day that year, and semi-scarred them all permanently. Now that had been revenge worth waiting to see.

 

Although Demo didn't seem to be all that bothered by it, now.  
Considering he had been casually sipping out of the _"You're the Bomb, Daddy-O"_ cup Scout had gotten him, and presented with far too much ceremony on that fateful day, as Heavy started to search for something edible. If he could just find some bread, there was bound to be something in the fridge he could use for an impromptu sandvich; it would suffice, at the very least. Though he, and doubtless many other members of the team, were no strangers to hunger... you tended to forget how it felt after a while.

Demo had brandished some ham he'd clearly been secreting, and Heavy had managed to find a loaf of bread in the back of the cupboard; so he had made them sandviches... and an extra one for Medic. He knew the man had gone straight to the Infirmary after battle, Soldier had managed to fracture his cheekbones after taking a baseball to the face just before time was called; and apparently the doctor felt he needed to set the whole thing delicately, with one of the other mediguns available. Still, even after the Soldier left, no one had seen any sign of the German, though there were concerning sounds coming from the medical bay...

The extra sandvich had been cause for much subtle ribbing from the Scot, who kept pointing out that the pair were practically married already so why didn't they just come out and say so to the rest of the team? Nobody would mind, whatsoever. It was only when Demo realised Heavy was ardently avoiding the topic, that a light flickered on in that canny mind of his; and he flat out asked whether the Russian had even broached the subject with the 'good Doctor' yet, and then demanded to know 'why the bloody hell not'. 

It had been an uncomfortable few minutes, as Heavy tried to pretend Demo had the wrong idea; then switched to the tried-and-true 'we are comrades nothing more' tactic, but all arguments withered away under that knowing glare. Finally, the Scotsman sighed, and pointed out that if Heavy was having 'that much bloody trouble' confessing his feelings to the doctor, he might as well ask Spy for help; because if anyone on this base had a solution to the Russians romantic roadblock... it was the espionage agent.

They had not said anything else after that, merely munched on sandviches and parted ways; but still, even now as he traversed the corridor, Demo's words played over and over. Questions and scenarios regarding how he would approach the Spy, without having the other laugh in his face, dashed through his mind; each fleeting, quickly dismissed, ephemeral and implausible. Each so very loud, captivating and persistent that he nearly didn't realise he was no longer alone...

 

 

"Hey, ya listening to me there, big guy?" interjects the sound of his opposite, within the team. It had the effect of catching the Russian off-guard for once, not an easy feat to pull off, if truth be told; considering that the Russian tended to have a preternatural sense for his surroundings, and anyone within them.  He misses a step from the shock of it, and is forced to stop, or risk falling on the sandvich he'd brought for Medic.

Glancing behind, to find the animated runner suddenly there and beaming ear-to-ear as he realised he'd finally gotten the jump on Heavy.

 

“Uh… da, of course.” Heavy bluffs automatically, and Scout makes a face that clearly stated he definitely didn't believe a word.

Though, true to form, the runner's mood switched on a dime and he dismissed the blatant falsehood's utterance witha wave of his wrapped hand. “Nah ya weren’t but that’s okay… see the thing is, I overheard Demo tell ya to ask Spy about how to woo the freaky Doc and his birds… but like, brother you do not wanna do that. Everything’s sixteen spoons and seducing dummies with that guy…”

To that, Heavy had no response.

 

“See, ‘cause when we had the bread situation… I kind asked him for help with Miss P... _'fore I realised she wasn’t just not into me, but like, she wasn’t a fan of guys in general_ … and it didn’t go so great. At all. And I can't get the way he shouted, _"Seduce Me!”_ outta my head, it’s horrifying, gonna need therapy or something over _that_ in the future I tell you what. Oh, and he also slaps ya with the dummy a lot, not fun at all. And ta be honest, I don’t think your dashing doctor  _birdlord-whackadoodle_ is going to fall for that stuff neither…“

Heavy holds up a hand to stop the Scout. The onslaught of English was pretty hard to take at the best of times, but Heavy also had to address the name-calling…

 

"Scout should show more respect towards Medic, he has save our lives many, many times over. And Doctor is a wonderful man, who... yes, has eccentricities... but is not ' _whackadoodle'_.” he admonishes, doing his best to look sternly down at the other; who failed to act contrite or remorseful even the tiniest bit. Although, that was largely due to the fact that, as he spoke... there was a loud maniacal laugh from the direction of the infirmary as the lights flickered on and off. Accompanied by a loud, “It’s ALIVE!”, that didn’t help Heavy’s case.

Scout, for his part, was making an expression that could only be described as accusatory, questioning Heavy's commitment to defending a man that was clearly playing frankenstein in his lab for funsies in the off-hours. They stared at one another for a moment, perhaps longer; in the interim, the powergrid stabilised and the lights snapped on properly, though the delighted laughter continued.

 

The runner sighs, a smirk breaking across his features as he crossed both arms over his chest. “Okay, ignoring Exhibits _A-through-frickin'-Z_ over there in my case against Medic being totally normal upstairs, what with all the freaky shit of a minute ago... ya at least gotta admit Doc’s a _bit_ weird.”

Heavy raises an eyebrow, expression stoic, obstinate. He places the plate down on a nearby window ledge, ascertains the position is stable and then turns back to look at the runner; head tilted as he considers his response. Scout raises an eyebrow, daring the larger mercenary to say something with every inch of his being; from the expression he wore down to the minute posturing of his thin, athletic body. Ah... that was it!

 

“Perhaps it is true that Medic is somewhat 'weird'... but then, so are you, little Scout.” Heavy counters, before stepping forwards and snatching the runner up, lightning fast. He was so incredibly light, comparative to Sacha and the Russian's other weapons, it took only one hand to hold the smaller mercenary aloft. "See? Is unusual for a grown man to be so spindly, little Scout... you must get it from Spy, da?"

 

That got a reaction.

“HE AIN’T MY DAD!” Scout yells, flailing dangerously. “PUT ME DOWN, YA BASTARD!”

 

Heavy sets the runner back on the floor and watches the younger man huff in embarrassed frustration. Scout was sensitive about not being the tallest, broadest and muscular amongst them, so perhaps he should not have chosen that aspect to mock; but he had been defending Medic's... honour, he supposed. However, even though the batter was not the largest amongst them, he was by no means the weakest; which was why Heavy had felt it an appropriate topic to utilise against him.   
After all, Heavy had seen the runner kill the BLU Heavy-Weapons-Guy with nothing but that tiny little matchstick of a bat, on more than one occasion; so he had assumed the other had ceased being quite so concerned about how he, and his abilities, were perceived by the others. Though, clearly not.

 

Scout was acting like an angry cat, hackles raised and muttering a continuous litany that cycled through various topics but tended to focus on the fact Heavy had somehow mortally offended him. He seemed to get this melodramatic streak form Spy, also... though Heavy would not be the one to address such a topic with him. Not now, at least.

The runner paced in place, “...fuckin’ try ta help ya ungrateful fatso how wouldja like it if i picked you up like that? Oh wait I can't cause ya two tonnes'a pretty fun there ain'tcha. Just wanted to stop ya makin' a big mistake but are ya grateful? Nooooo, hafta bring up that masked fucker didn'tcha, and now you're lookin' at me with those knowing eyes like I'm being weird about it. Fuckin' forget it, who freaking cares about you and ya bullshit marble jawline or whatever, any fuckin' more? Not respecting the sancitity of my personal space bubble and just-…”

 

Heavy puts a hand on the other’s shoulder, both in comfort and also in the hopes the runner would quieten down. “Scout, you must calm yourself before you give yourself a headache. Heavy stands by the statement that you must not refer to Medic so disrespectfully… though I did not mean to offend you so greatly with my actions or words. You are small, yes, but that does not mean you are not strong… merely unique, as all are. Heavy’s sisters are all very different in size and shape; each are very, very strong, and talented in torture; am very proud of them. I am also proud of you, Scout.”

Scout seems reasonably mollified by the statement, shoulders losing their rigidity. “Aw thanks ma-…" there's a sudden pause as Scout narrows his eyes at the larger mercenary. "Wait, wait, wait... ya see me as a _sister_?”

The incredulity in his tone is what prompts the loud bellow of laughter from Heavy. “Oho, no… of course not. Sisters are MUCH prettier than you...” but he can't finish the sentence before Scout jumps in with a loud retort. 

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT? I'm goddamn beautiful! See this? And this?" the runner flexes, showing off the musculature he had, and posing. "Yeah, freakin' gorgeous right? Ask any'a the ladies in Boston, heck I bet even Miss P'd say I was 'aesthetically pleasing' or whatever that means... 'cause she don't dig dudes, but she sure knows pretty when she sees it."

Honestly, Heavy isn't sure how the conversation ended up here, but it certainly was amusing. The runner did have a point, he would give the younger mercenary that...  
"Da, you are prettiest boy on base, you and your little strong muscles..." he agrees, overriding the other's continuing statements as to his own physical attractiveness. 

Scout seemed to settle down almost immediately, which was a relief. “Alright then, yeah, okay… well, if ya done tellin’ me ya think of me like ya buff-ass sisters… we can try and fix your little Medic problem…”

 

The sudden circumvention of the entire eventful conversation back to the original topic was definitely interesting, if somewhat dizzying at the speed with the topic was broached. Heavy couldn't resist asking, “And how does little Scout propose to do that…?” and immediately regretting it.

Something about the smug smirk the other was wearing made the Russian's heart quiver in fear.

 

"How? Easy." Scout answers, handing Heavy the sandvich plate, and adding, "Like THIS, pallie."

So saying, the runner took three great strides down the hallway, flung open the Infirmary doors with all the melodramatic fervour he could muster, and shouted at the top of his lungs at the occupant inside. " _HEY DOC, GOT A MINUTE? HEAVY THINKS YA REAL FUCKIN' CUTE AND HAVE A NICE-ASS ASS, SO HE BROUGHT YA A SANDVICH AND TOLD ME NOT TA CALL YOU BIRDLORD WHACKADOODLE AGAIN, AND HE ALSO DON'T THINK YA BIRDS ARE WEIRD. MAYBE KISS HIM OR SOMETHING_?"

 

In the hallway, Heavy is just about having a heart attack; mouth agape and wondering how he might kill the runner in a way that ensures he understands how very much Heavy is NOT on board with this tactic. However, all that can be heard from the infirmary was a loud clang of metallic surgical instruments hitting the floor and  string of surprised German curses; signifying Medic's reaction to the sudden intrusion-slash-unanticipated revelation. 

 

“ _SCOUT YOU LOUD LITTLE JUNGE, VHAT ARE YOU YELLING ABOUT MY AS_ -… vait, _vhat_? He does?” Medic’s angry tone drops the exact moment his whirling mind catches up to the situation.

“You fuckin' _bet_ he does, Doc, now come out and say something vaguely romantic. No, put down the scalpel first, it's more threaten-y than cutesy. No, come out here... as in, take more than half a step and-... fuck it, hold onta ya pert ass I'm comin' in there…” Scout disappears into the room; and the sounds of a minor struggle ensue for several seconds afterwards. Heavy is tempted to look, because it sounds like someone is holding fast to something large and weighted whilst someone else is making every effort to move them... but Heavy can't get his legs to respond. He's rooted to the spot.

 

There's an echoing sound of Scout cajoling the Doctor to keep moving towards where Heavy waited. All praise and some frustration.  
“ _Alright, there ya go. Now get out there… there’s like a fuckin' mountain of Russian man out there who thinks ya hot as hell…_ ” There’s a pause, then the sound of someone being shoved across a floor physically; shoes squeaking in protest as their wearer pushed back against the propelling force. The runner pauses to let out an aggravated sigh, then the awful sound continued for another ten seconds, interspersed with Scout's continuous talking. 

“ _C-c'mon doc, out ya go…_ ” grunts the Scout, finally getting the Medic into the corridor, inch-by-hardwon-inch. He wipes the sweat from his brow with a bandaged wrist, “ _Whew_ , you’re almost as stubborn as Heavy is, Doc. You two are great for one another, so good frickin' luck with that…”

 

Medic snaps out of whatever deer-in-headlights moment he was having, to whirl about and confront the runner. “Oh, you dare to insinuate that _I'm_ stubborn, am I? Have you met yourself, little _hase_?”

“ _Aw shuddup, birdlord_ …” Scout grumbles, playfully shoving the Medic, but somehow his antics were dissolving the awkward tension that the air seemed to be made of right at the moment. Even though the subject of why Scout had suddenly engineered the meeting, remained as yet, unbroached. 

 

Though, for reasons he could not name even unto himself, Heavy felt something inside melt somewhat as Medic playfully pinched the runner's cheek, whilst laughing light-heartedly. "Be silent yourself, hase, ve both know it to be true..."

In fact, despite the unusual way in which it was contrived... the whole situation, the scene before him, felt nice. Pleasant.... if, insular. Heavy felt as if he was watching the scene from afar, like a member of the audience at an enthralling play or movie. Compelling, beautiful, captivating. Nothing more or less than two people enjoying themselves, playfully mocking one another and laughing along...

For some reason, the Russian found himself subtly comparing one against the other; though why he could not say, except that it felt... right to take in the details of the view, the people, before him. The contrasts of experience and youth, size and shape, the difference in musculature and attire, strengths and flaws, the expressions and how they expressed themselves... all the small details were so very captivating, when you had a moment to see them, study them. Heavy found he could not look away, and was left breathless at the odd revelations that seemed to surprise him now. 

How Medic's posture tended to be exact and restrained, unless he engaged fully in conversation with a person whom he trusted well enough to let them see the true man beyond the stern facade. The unguarded way the Doctor smiled, or spoke with his hands, or even placed a companionable hand on another person when he felt safe; when there was no need to pretend he was made of stone... it was beautiful. Every single time such an interaction happened between them, it made Heavy's heart soar; and even now, just to observe it occurring between Scout and Medic... the sight still spread warmth through his entire being. Some unnameable, intangible joy.

In contrast, Scout was a firecracker of emotion; a distinctive counterpoint to Medic's general stoicism. He used every single inch of his being when speaking, constantly expressing his thoughts through continuous motion; be it his mouth, hands or body movements; never still, and perpetually unable to bluff worth a damn at the fortnightly team poker night, even should his life depend upon it. Together, their conversation almost seemed like a dance, or perhaps a fencing match; Heavy could not find an apt metaphor in English to describe his thoughts. 

So different, and yet, so inherently similar; when he truly thought on it. Heavy could see the same animation, that spirit burning in their eyes that he found admirable; the one that gave them the fortitude to get back up and keep trying, even when everything had gone to hell. And, each of them, in their own ways, were uniquely attractive. 

 

Medic was... well, there had never existed a singular word in any language that encompassed the entirety of what Medic was, to Heavy. The man was simply... indescribable, and yet he was everything Heavy could every wish for.

And the Scout...? Well, he was something different altogether; lightning in human form, if any metaphor ever applied to the youthful batter.  He too, Heavy was starting to realise, held his own charms and intrigues, for the Russian. 

 

So entangled in these strange, weblike thoughts, Heavy had yet to notice that the Scout's animated chatter had ceased; having sensed something was amiss. If he had been aware, perhaps the man would have wondered when the runner had become so attuned, so attentive to the moods of the people around him; when had this maturation ocurred, over the egoistic brat that had first arrived on base.

 

Scout tilted his head, scrunching up his face a little. “Hey big fella, you okay over there? Ya been quiet for ages.”

“Hmmm, da. Was just… thinking.” Heavy responded, shifting his grip on the plate slightly. Before putting it down once more, realising that it would most likely be quite some time before the conversation circled back around to the original purpose of visiting the Medic in his Infirmary.

“Aw _c'mon man_ , you have to at least _talk_ to the guy first before ya start _ogling_ him like that _in public_ …” Scout whines, tone all mock-offence, and arms flailing skyward as if outraged by this assumed lack of decorum coming from the Russian. "Didn't even offer him a sandvich first... and you're getting downright nasty in that chrome-dome, what would ya ma say, man?"  
  


Medic starts to laugh, as Heavy feels his cheeks flush. How did one even respond to such an accusation?  
Outright denial was considered affirmation, after all; especially using Scout-logic, which made no actual sense to anyone else on the team. Although, Heavy had a feeling that the runner might just die of shock should the Russian tell him what his mamushka would say about such a situation... 

 

Scout rounds on the surprised doctor beside him, all false outrage and the accompanying dramatic flourishes he had determined were required to diffuse the tension of the situation. “And _YOU_! Shamelessly showing off that-... that-…” he gestures to all of Medic. “No _wonder_  the freaking Russian alps over there is having such freakin’ nasty thoughts… I mean, you even walked about _without ya lab coat on_ yesterday and I thought he might just die from the sight of y _a freakin’ nice ass parading around…_ ”

Medic had turned bright pink, a high flush that accompanied the teary eyes and wheezy laughter of a man so overwhelmed by the ridiculousness of a situation, he could do nothing else. Scout continued to remonstrate the pair, like some offended dowager Great-Aunt at her teenage niece over her choice of attire or friends. Heavy was starting to get concerned the Doctor might just collapse from oxygen deprivation, should Scout not let up his routine any time soon.

“Which brings me back ta the whole reason I went and kicked in ya door,” Scout said suddenly, dropping the act in a heartbeat, and going back to his regular self. Heavy just about had whiplash from the transition. “See, this big, dumb, beautiful frickin' idiot has been mooning after ya from afar for so damn long it's just about embarrassing. Almost like the big guy didn’t know he liked ya or something, Doc; I mean, he almost went ta freakin’  _Spy_ for advice on how to tell ya…”

The way Scout expressed that particular statement gave the impression he'd just spat out a rather derogatory insult, but neither of the other men had seen fit to comment on it. In fact, Medic was peering at Heavy now; curious, calculating, admiration and excitement at war on those normally stoic features. Which was, truth be told, equal parts flattering and concerning; for the German had never been one to broadcast his emotions, leaving Heavy in the midst of a quandary as to exactly what was going on behind those beautiful, inquisitive eyes of his. 

 

“Is it true?” Medic finally breaks the ensuing silence to ask.

“…da, it is as little Scout has said.” Heavy admits, letting the confession fill the space between them all.

 

Both parties try not to notice the awkwardly fidgeting runner taking up space between them in the narrow corridor. Clearly unsure if he was supposed to go and leave them to it, or stay put until someone had confessed their undying love in an obscenely romantic gesture…  
Spy would know the answer for sure, but the runner would throw himself off a cliff before he asked that guy anything of the sort.

 

“Vell zhen, it appears ve are of similar minds about zhe situation.” Medic smiles, diffusing the sick fear that had been slowly spreading through Heavy’s mountainous frame with every passing second of silence following the confession.

“You also…?” he begins to question, but Medic cuts the query short with a short, yet enthusiastic, nod. Heavy could feel the grin forming on his face, and could not have held it back had he wished to; Medic's smile was as infectious as it was enthralling.

 

And that is the exact moment when the peaceful revelation is utterly shattered by a loud, rather emphatic, “Thank _FUCKING_ finally!” from the resident runner, who seemed about ready to either do a victory lap or take a nap. Both mercenaries turned to stare at the runner, raising inquiring eyebrows in tandem and trading intrigued smirks at his antics.

Though it was a bit concerning that Scout looked so exhausted; it was almost as if he’d been personally willing them to hurry the hell up and just confess already. Which was somewhat endearing, but mostly ridiculous.

 

“I’m sorry, vas our mutual realisation of romantic attraction towards one another not expedient enough for your schedule, Herr Scout?” queried Medic, tone amused as he moved closer to Heavy.

“Are ya fuckin’ kidding me? Pal, you two are the _WORST_ at recognising ya like someone… do you even know _how long_ I’ve had to watch Heavy pining after you like some lovesick puppy, Doc? Or how painful it was to have Dr Birdlord over there going outta his way to show off his tight features at every opportunity, in the hopes that Heavy’d notice? Ya fucking circled, and circled and circled each other and it just made me dizzy… dunno how you two feel about it… but someone had to do something before the rest of the base came down with motion sickness!" Scout shouts, emphasising his point through rapid hand and arm gestures. 

 

“So vhat I hear him saying, mein dear Heavy, is zhat… as ve vere admiring one another… he vas vatching us both too, ja? Or perhaps I have misunderstood...?” Medic teases with a wide grin.

Heavy nods back in affirmation, expression pensive and serious. “Certainly sounds correct, da. Does little Scout maybe have something he wishes to share with us, hmmm?”

Scout’s mouth had dropped open, expression twisted between instinctive urge to deny things, and some confusion. As if it hadn’t occurred to him at all that maybe his vested interest in watching the pair may have had an ulterior motive to which even he was unaware; that his actions, whilst altruistic in intention, provided an opportunity to discuss something he wasn't conscious of wanting. The runner clearly replaying the situation back in his mind to try and work out how he might have missed something along those lines.  
Eventually, he sort of slumps and asks, “… _what?_ ”

 

“Oh dear, is as clueless as Doctor was…” laughs Heavy, suddenly delighted to have the situation turned around for some good-natured revenge for how the runner had approached the delicate topic earlier.

“Hush Heavy, you vere also in zhe dark until moments ago vhen Scout-… vell, vhen Scout pointed out you had indeed been admiring my physique, und self from afar.” Medic responds, tapping the larger on the arm playfully.

“Wait… are you implyin’ I like ya?” Scout questions, clearly not in the loop here despite being the subject of discussion.

“…did you not know?” Heavy asks, tone oddly gentle, uncertain if they were stepping into new territory with the Scout or not. One the runner wasn’t even aware of himself… it was sometimes hard to gauge with the Bostonian, as at times he would feign ignorance to get out of tasks or trick someone else into explaining awkward topics in public.

 

“Uh… well I mean, not… really?” Scout runs a bandaged hand through his hair, perturbed. "Guess it makes sense, but how did I not...? How did you even work it out if I-...?"

“Are you aware you referred to my person, _specifically my behind_ , multiple times in favourable mannerisms in the last few minutes?” Medic asks, easing into it.

Scout looks like someone just told him that baseball, as a sport, had just been cancelled. “…well fuck. I’ll uh, be going…”  
He clearly had a lot to process. Except, of course, that the runner failed to notice he was basically sandwiched between the two in a narrow corridor so there was no escape.

“…fuck.”

 

Heavy was too busy laughing to admonish the runner for his language. Though the sound died in his throat when the runner flat-out gave in trying to figure it out or escape, and just flopped forwards, resting his forehead against Heavy’s chest. After a moment's hesitation, Medic patted Scout on the back reassuringly, saying something in German that sounded oddly soothing... 

 

“…okay, so this is fuckin’ weird.” Scout eventually adds to the conversation. “I just wanted to make you two stop making with the _lovey-dovey faces_ every time the other’s back was turned, also 'cause you stare at the other's keister when their back is turned and some of us just want to _restore common decency on the base you degenerate punks_..." He cracked a grin, because they all knew that was definitely a lie. "But earlier, when I went to find some dinner, and I overheard Demo tell the big guy ta speak to Spook about the Medic thing… I just, had to do something... but I never thought-...”

“Vell, on zhe upside… to know oneself is power, Scout.” consoles Medic, hovering, as if he wasn't sure how else to provide comfort to the runner considering he had already utilised the soothing pat-and-consolation manoeuvre that usually worked.

 

“Yeah, maybe... but now I went and ruined everything for you two. Fuckin’ undid all my hardwork by makin’ the whole thing about me… and I didn't even realise 'til a second ago.” Scout responds agitatedly. The edge of anxiety to the tone was new; though both unwanted and unwarranted. 

“Revelations rarely happen when wanted, Scout. Sometimes at the worst of times, but this is not one of them… and we do not mind.” Heavy provides, patting the runner on the head in a way that got an endearing wiggle-and-whine response.

“Don’t do that big guy… feel like enough of a stupid kid enough right now without ya reminding me how small I am by comparison…” he grumbles.

 

“Vell, you are.” adds Medic, unhelpfully. Then, seeing the expression Heavy shoots him, elaborates. “You are young, Scout und zhere is nothing wrong vith zhat. Many things are new, including ideas and revelations, events, experiences und abilities. Even vhen you are old things still happen zhat surprise you; how do you think I felt vhen you so suddenly announced Heavy reciprocated my interest not so long ago?”

“Heh, you nearly threw that tray of surgical shit through the ceiling…” Scout snorts, turning his head to look at Medic.

“He did?” Heavy inquires, grinning and looking at Medic for confirmation. The other man refused to look at him, which generally meant yes.

“Yeah man, you shoulda seen it!” Scout enthused, perking up enough to stand up straight and look at the Russian. “Flung them right up into the air, with this wide-eyed look of surprise or whatever all over his face, as the birds went crazy… and there was a second he looked like snow white in that one scene with all the animals… then suddenly he starts yelling at me…”

 

“…did you just compare me to a Disney princess, Scout?” Medic queried, trying not to laugh as the runner flushed a brilliant scarlet hue to the tip of his ears. “Who knew you could be so adorable… und so oblivious?”

“Hey, I thought I was only into Miss P and chicks like her ten minutes ago…” Scout defends, changing topic and huffing petulantly. Considering the whole topic was quite new, the other two thought it best not to argue that the Chicken Palace girl was not a shining example of past encounters; and instead decided to steer it towards safer waters.

“Und now you can add persons like myself and Heavy to zhe list, I assume?” Medic teases, with a gleam in his eye that was part amusement and some degree of flattered delight that someone so youthful felt attraction for someone such as him. 

 

“Yeah-… wait, _both_ ain’t weird?” frowns the runner, latching onto the idea as if it were an alien concept.

The older two share a look, of the kind one can only get from lived experience and continuous exposure to new ideas about ancient concepts no one wanted written in textbooks. From meeting people and seeing life through their perspective, to hearing the hateful words slanted against such persons. It was never a choice, merely a genetic lottery and chance that let people be who they are at heart.

“Da, is entirely normal. Would have thought with Spy as father that you would know about-…” Heavy pauses at the sour look the statement gets. “Nevermind. Is normal to like both… the people who think it is not so, are those who cling to strange ideas. Many on base like both, you maybe have noticed this?”

 

“Oh, cool… okay, so that's a relief I tell ya what. But I did still kinda steal ya big romantic moment back there, so… if you wanna do a 'take two', I can shuffle 'round ya and leave you two to it…” Scout said, relieved, but looking for a way to fix the situation he’d inadvertently had a minor (s)existential crisis in.

“I think,” Medic says carefully, putting an arm around Scout’s torso from behind, ready to let go at the slightest hesitation. “that perhaps, little _hase_ , you has best allow yourself to be caught a moment und listen vhen ve say zhat it vould not be a hardship to include you in zhis, if zhat is vhat you vant…”

Heavy places a hand on each mercenary, thumb caressing Medic’s cheek and gently clasping Scout’s shoulder. “Da, but only if you wish… leetle Scout…”

 

“…you’re sure that’s… okay?” Scout asks, visibly considering it, but hesitating.

“Of course it is… you have vatched us in hopeful longing as much as we observed you back just zhe same. Only, ve vere all so oblivious to our actions und zhe motivations behind zhem, zhat zhe reality being revealed caused a domino effect of continuous surprises.” Medic adds. Looking to both of them, consideringly. “Und besides, zhere is no harm in zhe attempt… in seeing vhere zhis goes. Mein men, if you vill have me… stoic, gentle Heavy vith a mind as great as his muscle-mass, und our speedy little Scout, so bright and youthful.”

“And you are our Doktor, brilliant and beautiful… _I love this Doktor_!” Heavy adds, looking right into the German’s eyes. They seemed to be magnetic, as both men unconsciously moved closer together…

 

“Uh, hey, not that it ain’t cute or hot or whatever ya supposed to call the two dudes ya like start kissing 'n turning ya insides to like, fireworks, but uh… I don’t wanna die.” Scout squirmed, caught in the middle of the two.

Heavy and Medic broke apart, laughing, as Scout melodramatically gasped for air; though he’d only been slightly squished for a moment or two at most.

“I zhink he is jealous, Heavy…” Medic says, mischievously.

“Da…” Heavy grins back, as the twitchy runner between them tries to watch them both at once, uncertain what was about to happen. “Must learn to share…”

“Wait, what’re you gonna-… _oh my god, you dorks_!” Scout giggles as he’s suddenly peppered by small kisses on his face and neck. It’s nice, stirred something inside that felt warm and safe; but mostly he’s a bit ticklish and can’t stop laughing at the strange sensation. He's flushed and wheezing for air in no time.

 

Medic puts a hand to the runner’s face, ending the little game. “Is zhis alright, _hase_?”

“It’s-… _yeah_.” Scout smiles cheesily in response, leaning in as the Doctor kisses him. When they break apart, he eyes Heavy, “Guess to be fair you hafta come down here and get a piece of me too… good thing there’s enough to go round…”

Heavy rolls his eyes, but acquiesces; leaving the Scout marvelling at the fact that he’s gone from kissing _zero_ men in his entire life, to _two_ , all in the stretch of a few minutes.  
Both so different, yet… good.

“Oh dear… vhat have ve unleashed?” sighs Medic, jokingly, moving around Scout to lean on Heavy. The other man put his arms around them both; kissing Medic properly this time, with no distractions.

“Something good, I think… my Doktor.” Heavy replies. Fondness and relief written all over his features now that the truth was out there, and the situation was resolved positively.

 

“Well I didn’t expect any'a this… but I’m kinda happy it did.” Scout hums, content to stay in the huddle for as long as the others were willing.

“As are we, little _hase_ …” Medic replies, with a soft smile at Heavy. “As are we.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Additional/Alternate ending:
> 
> “Mmmm, good, 'cause when someone tells Spy I’m dating you two he’s gonna be pissed…” Scout adds.
> 
> Medic and Heavy look to one another with fear.


End file.
